Maximum Homicide
by monkeybait
Summary: You've gotta slay to survive.
1. The Bad Beginning

**A gory parody that will either sink or swim… or more like live or die, in this case… sooo it's worth a shot, I guess. This story may only be taken lightly by Club-To-Death Angel fans.**

**By monkeybait and her twin sister. Characters belong to James Patterson. **

The funny thing about facing imminent death is when it's on the face of other people.

Like Fang.

Heh, heh, heh…

I woke up stabbing Angel's life-size Barbie… again. Cursing the fact that it wasn't _actually_ Fang, like it had been in my dream, I checked myself. Yep, all arms and legs still there and working properly. Pretty sure all my organs were there, too. I'd managed to live through another night, though I always woke up prepared to be a second away from death.

It was chilly, but I forced myself out of my cozy bed. I threw on clean sweats – amazingly, Nudge had put the laundry away. And she managed to get the blood stains out of it, too! Way to go, Nudge!

Everyone else was still asleep; I could have a few minutes of peace and quiet in the kitchen, sharpening the butchers' knives and practicing my cackle.

I glanced out the hall windows on the way to the kitchen, just to make sure no one was hiding outside, ready to slit my throat. Oh yeah, and there was a picturesque Disney landscape, too, complete with smiling, prancing deer and butterflies. But when you're fending for your life, you don't really care. We were probably a lot safer out there, with those cheerful animals. But we had a mission.

To kill Fang.

See, our caretaker, Jeb last-name-unpronounceable died two years ago. We knew he was dead, we all did – but we weren't sure which one of us killed him. Convinced Fang had beaten us all to the punch, we were impatiently waiting for that fateful day when he was let his guard down. I glanced eagerly at the spot over the mantel – a perfect place to mount his head. Fang knew what we were up to, and was constantly on his guard – but it was four against one, and he was weakening!

I maniacally laughed at the thought of killing Fang, which woke up Gazzy, the horribly-named eight-year-old.

"Morning, Max," Gazzy said.

OMG, LAME CLIFFHANGER!

**If you kept reading, kudos to you.**


	2. Dawn of the Deadly

We're glad you kept reading

**We're glad you kept reading. We're sorry for anyone we've scared away. Mostly. Somewhat.**

**Original dialogue James Patterson. It was just tweaked a wee bit.**

Annoyed that Gazzy interrupted my evil thinking, I punched his back and slammed him in the head with my knife handle. What could I say? When we weren't attempting to beat up Fang, we were beating up each other.

Gazzy looked up at me, his gorgeous blue eyes round and trusting. "May we have Fang for breakfast?"

"All in good time, Gazzy," I said, hoping good time was soon. I've trained him well… perhaps, too well…

"I'll try the Fang voodoo doll again," Gazzy offered, and my heart swelled. He was a sickeningly terrible kid and I loved him. He and six-year-old Angel were both conniving and were skilled with a flail.

Soon Iggy, tall, pale and armless (we'd chopped them off while he was sleeping and sold them on the black market) (desperate times call for desperate measures) walked in. We'd also sold his eyes, and he daringly aimed for the couch, but just missed and fell on the porcupine pelts we'd left out the night before.

"Nice miss, loser," I said, not even trying to hide my obvious glee.

"Bite me," he mumbled through a mouthful of spines, so it sounded more like "bfffba mmm!"

"Fine!" I yelled and bit him hard on the shoulder, the only part not coated with spikes. I don't think he noticed; he was already in too much pain.

So I glanced into Fang's room with naïve hope – maybe the Grim Reaper had come. When I noticed he wasn't there, I was greatly disappointed.

"Try to run from me, will you?" I muttered insanely.

"No, I tried that before," Fang said behind me, pointing at the scar on his leg to prove it. Once again, Gazzy and Angel, I'm so proud of you. With the other hand, he stuck a knife to my throat.

Thankfully, Gazzy attacked his scarred leg, not letting a member of the The Kill Fang Society (TKFS for short) go down so easily. Fang was already four inches taller than me, but that didn't matter much when he was on the ground. Unfortunately, Gazzy's venomous bite wasn't enough to bring him down. I patted Gazzy on the head a little too hard to call it affectionate. "Nice try," I said as he sunk a few inches into the floor with each pat.

We went back into the kitchen; Iggy had found our supply of antiseptic that we practically bathed in and was now attempting to make eggs with his feet. I guess if I were more a fembot it would bother me that an armless, blind guy was making eggs with his feet better than I could; I wasn't jealous, but it seemed like a good enough reason to throw him back into the porcupine room.

"Ow…" he moaned, probably very confused.

I surveyed the kitchen. Breakfast was going a lot better than it normally did. "I'm going to go get Nudge and Angel. Gazzy, Iggy, try to kill Fang while I'm gone." Fang was so used to hearing this he didn't even flinch; just automatically grabbed the butchers' knife I'd been sharpening and prepared himself.

The two girls shared the last small bedroom. It was like a game of Mortal Combat; one day, I wondered if I'd look in there and one would be gone. Or at least parts of them would be scattered about the room like confetti. It was oddly quiet; I found eleven-year-old Nudge laughing as she tightened a knot in the bed sheets. They were conspicuously shaped like six-year-old Angel. Nudge was barely recognizable with her hands coated in blood; she was about to deliver a final blow with a katana, her WOP (weapon of choice). We called her sword Blood Bucket; all blood, no bucket.

"Save it for Fang, Nudge," I said and watched as she reluctantly put it back in its sheath, which was also coated in blood and said 'Nudge's Baby' on it. Nudge blinked, struggling not to kill Angel and was unable to resist tossing her lightly over the edge of the canyon. Well, it _was_ rather tempting.

"Breakfast eventually," I said cheerily and skipped off to see if our youngest TKFS member had survived the fall. She had, of course, and by the time I got there, Angel was enjoying finding shapes in her bruises.

"Hey, you're alive!" I said, feigning happiness and leaning over to stab a bruise shaped like Fang's face. She grabbed my arm and flipped me seconds before I could do so.

"Hey, Max," she said, once we had both recovered, "Did you kill Fang?"

"Patience is a virtue," I reminded her.

"Will you do my braids?" she asked, and I nodded.

Everyone knew how much I hated, hated, hated Fang. We'd already claimed Jeb whats-his-face, so when Fang attacked on his own, we were all furiously angry. Even Iggy, who swore vengeance after we severed his arms, decided to join us for the time being.

"Don't even think about tying my hair in several impossible knots and putting sticky tack in it," Angel said. "Save it for Fang, remember?"

That's another thing about Angel: she can read minds. Something you have to remember when you're trying to stab her with the pointy end of an arrow. You know, just in case you are.


	3. Glutton for Mutton

**Glad to see that there's a, erm, positive response to this. Then we will keep writing without fail. I think.**

**If you're wondering, the connections with the book are actually coming out of the chapters. It's like a big Mad Lib, changing words here and there.**

At the breakfast table, conversation went along smashingly.

"Let's have mutton tonight," said Angel casually, looking maliciously at the prancing deer. "They're fat right now."

"I'll come with you," said the Gasman, throwing a porcupine pelt boomerang at them. A particularly happy one fell to the ground, bleeding and smiling, legs still skipping reflexively though it was going nowhere.

"Save it for Fang!" the members of the TKFS shouted at once. Fang was currently using his at-home science kit to check his food for toxins and glanced up at his name.

"Why do you guys want to kill me so much?" he asked.

Our answer was glaring in unison for twenty minutes.

"… I'm done," said Fang, after checking the results and finding rat poison.

"Let's go out and get our _spoils_," Gazzy said creepily.

Outside it was too sunny, too beautiful, too clear and too cloudless. It was worse than staying at home and constantly having sharp objects thrusted in your general direction. We carried knives, forks and a pop-up cooker out into the field. Fang walked a good twenty feet from us, carrying a plexi-glass shield and a poker for defense. We sat in a circle around the cooker, plotting mercilessly and drumming our fingers together, Fang watching with eyebrows raised at his preferred distance.

"If we kill him," Angel suggested innocently, "we could eat Fang-mutton pie."

"But how?" Iggy asked, hypothetically drumming his fingers together.

Gazzy was looking rather suspicious. Suddenly, Fang screamed. The TKFS watched with merriment as Gazzy's summoned porcupine chased Fang about. It was a dark ability and we were glad to have him on our side. Well, either way, we used it against Iggy. It was just too much fun to hurt the helplessly outnumbered guy.

Then it was very quiet. Too quiet, interrupted occasionally by porcupine screams as Fang tore the poor creature apart with his dagger-sharp fingernails. Sensing another appearance, _they_ came, clad in black and white striped shirts, black berets, and faces white as milk. It was them.

Mimes.

And it wasn't a dream.

**Martha, My Dear plays in the background...**


	4. When Mimes Attack

**Listening to Bohemian Rhapsody and I Like to Move It whilst we write… AT THE SAME TIME.**

There was no time. Jeb had taught us not to think, just to act. Unfortunately, most of our actions involved hitting Jeb. And now that he was dead, most of our actions involved hitting Fang.

"As greatly enjoyable as this is, it's not really doing anything," Iggy explained, and so we were finally forced to abandon Fang's bleeding mass to deal with the task at hand.

The Mimes came in great numbers, each wielding an invisible flaming branch or rope of some sort. One with a make-believe machine gun shot down Iggy. Grabbing his stomach where some sort of bullet wound must have been, he collapsed to the ground.

"Leave me to die…"Iggy groaned heroically, clutching his side as invisible blood stained the ground disturbingly.

"Okay," we said and gladly did what he told us.

One mime swung a 'lasso' above his head and snagged Angel. Angel's arms tightened as if a real lasso had grabbed her. Gazzy, leading a band of rabid porcupines, shouted, "Charge!" and they rushed forward. Unfortunately, the Mimes had 'bears' and each one ate the porcupines, each suddenly being grabbed into the air and shortly after looking much like they had just gone through the blender.

We were losing the most epic battle of the year: The Kill Fang Society Plus Fang vs. the Mimes Armed with Invisible Bears.

I gave the Mimes roundhouse kicks, followed by several squarehouse, trianglehouse and quadrilateralhouse ones that did considerable damage. Fang was holding his own against several mimes (though I sort of hoped they would get the best of him) and Iggy, who was beating him repeatedly with his head. Nudge had taken out Blood Bucket and heads were flying, to say the least. Blood and berets were tossed about like a very disturbing salad.

"Hey… hey, Mimes…" Nudge said, sounding brainsick. "What's black and white and red all over?" She began to show them before they could reply, before one stabbed his friend to prove he knew the punch line. Or stab line in this case.

After practicing a vertical slice on a couple of the mute clowns that looked like jail escapees, I looked over at Angel. They were making strange hand gestures… as if they were putting her in a box! As funny as it looked, we of the The Kill Fang Society had made a pact that Fang would be the first to die. Gazzy and I raced forward (Iggy was too busy getting tied to Fang and being stabbed repeatedly with the poker to help us) to get Angel out of the 'cage'. But Mimes were returning to their various unseen clown mobiles. Looking as if they were sitting on air, some of them were lifted up into the sky, flying off, taking Angel with them.

I staggered to my feet and glared at the still tied-up Fang. I didn't feel like following the Mime-o-coptor and Fang was a great way to relieve stress… anger… happiness… heck, he was of universal use. Unfortunately, he managed to get away, so we took our anger out on Iggy instead.

As Iggy was being beaten to pulp, we hardly noticed a mime pointing frantically to himself.

"Oh, I get it, he's Jeb's son," Iggy picked up immediately. How he figured that out without arms, or eyesight for that matter, we'll never know.

"What's his name again?" Fang shouted to us from forty feet away.

No one could 'remember', and obviously he couldn't tell us, so we decided to call him Pepper Ann. He looked utterly unhappy about our decision, mimicking tears coming down his face, and pointed again at a cape that obviously had his first initial.

"'A'?" Somehow, Iggy could read his invisible cape. "So it's Ann Pepper?"

The Mime slapped his forehead and pointed again.

"I suppose we'll never know," Gazzy decided. "Ann Pepper it is."

The Mime started to furiously stomp about. We all knew his name was Ari, but driving him crazy was much more fun than admitting to that knowledge. After some annoyance, he shook his fist, declared he would catch us in his silent way, and climbed into his own private Mime-ousine.

Fang, noticing that we were too busy watching the Mime-ousine drive away, grasped the moment to knock us out with heavy-duty, iron-plated combat boots. We all fell to the ground and watched as he went off to the house, slinging several grinning deer over his shoulder. Not a good day for the TKFS.

**...Innocently eat our cherry Jell-o...**


	5. Fang Tucker Must Die

Because we accidentally forgot to incorporate Nudge in the last chapter, instead of going back and fixing it, we'll inconspicuously make it have a purpose and pretend like we knew what we were doing all along

**Because we accidentally forgot to incorporate Nudge in the last chapter, instead of going back and fixing it, we'll inconspicuously make it have a purpose and pretend like we knew what we were doing all along.**

**If you're following along with the book (always oodles of fun), skip to page 27 for this chapter and you may see some similarities.**

I woke up, my vision somewhat blurry. The first thing that came into focus was Iggy and Gazzy sitting next Nudge, who was tied up to a tree with some invisible rope I'd expected they'd pillaged from the Mimes.

"Uh… why did you do that to Nudge?" I asked them.

"She went and got ice cream while we were fighting!" Gazzy shouted angrily. No one asked about people who may have seen her and thirteen-foot wingspan.

"I didn't have breakfast! Iggy was trying to cut off my arms all morning!" Nudge said, pretending to cry.

"Iggy! How could you!" We all beat Iggy senseless with severed Mime heads, ignoring the fact that he couldn't have possibly cut off a limb of us in any way we could think of (though maybe he could, seeing as he could read invisible writing), and went back home into the kitchen. We glanced at the spot where Angel's breakfast plate would still have been, if she had eaten breakfast.

Iggy threw mugs through the air, and they broke a couple of feet away, each missing his target, Fang. Fang decided now would be a good time to practice his knife throwing and after a good seven hours of this, we decided that maybe we should consider going after our missing compadre.

"First, we should go take antiseptic baths," I decided.

"Nudge, you look like you got burned by some shrapnel," Fang said.

We all had a jolly chuckle (cause shrapnel is just such a great word to throw out there at parties) about this until we remembered we hated Fang, and we made him take an antiseptic bath on the roof nekkid. Then we locked him out and, once again, we all enjoyed a jolly chuckle as he discovered the exploding shingles.

While Fang tried to stay conscious for fear we'd kill him, the The Kill Fang Society Plus Fang began to discuss what we should do about Angel.

"Well," I said, "we can't lose our creepiest member. Anyone who can scare a Mime must be pretty terrifying."

The dudes and Gazzy nodded in agreement.

"How come I'm not cool enough to be a dude?" Gazzy asked.

"Shut up," I said, insuring he would shut up by stuffing a sock into his mouth and taping it in, then unnecessarily tying his arms, legs, blindfolding him and squeezing cotton balls in his ears. I had to stop myself before I went too far.

"I wish Jeb were back so we could kill him instead," Fang muttered absentmindedly.

"You already got a chance to kill him!" we all yelled, ultimately deciding that the Plus Fang part of our group had to go… soon.

"Guys, guys!" I yelled. "We're not the enemy… they're the enemy." Just because he was already tied up, I hammer-tossed Gazzy into the fireplace and yelled, "Just be quiet so I can think!"

But then I realized it wasn't Gazzy's fault. It was _Fang's_ fault that Angel had been captured. It was _Fang's_ fault that our rescue mission had been a total disaster. It was _Fang's_ fault that Jeb was dead. It was _Fang's_ fault that the Cubs have been losing for over a century. Fang was to blame for all these catastrophes.

Fang had to die.

Fang popped open a can of ravioli and began to eat them. His eyes slowly watched me as I picked up the sharpest steak knife I could find, my eyes glinting mercilessly. Gazzy and Nudge watched with interested; Iggy watched in the best way he could, but Iggy is blind and he can't see anything obviously.

Then intelligent Nudge shouted what was on everyone's minds. "Why couldn't they have taken Fang?!"

We of the TKFS all silently agreed that a trade was in order; if we gave over Fang, maybe they would give back Angel. Taking him _there_ was, by far, worse than death. As we huddled around each other, thinking of a plan, Fang reached for a knife several times; we each took turns slapping his hand away.

"I need something to protect myself." He reached under the sofa pillows and took out his AK-47, sticking it in his jean pocket in case he needed to whip it out suddenly.

"But they were in a chopper!" the Gasman said. "They could be all the way to Jupiter!"

"That's where boys go to get more stupider," Nudge said.

The two of them had a fist fight for a while about who was more stupider; Gasman proved Nudge's point, eventually surfacing with a black eye and was spitting teeth over ours heads so that they attacked Fang. Fang was shooting each one, wasting his bullets. I encouraged Gasman to keep doing this by punching him in the jaw; if he lost enough ammo, he'd be ours.

When his gun made the telltale click, we surrounded him, but he then smoothly pulled out his WOP, a pocket chainsaw, and we backed off; another day, another day…

Now we had to somehow convince Fang to come with us. But Iggy and Gazzy had to stay here, manning the fort. It was a pity, because Iggy could read the Mimes' movements, but because he is armless he wouldn't do much else in the stabbing-Fang field.

"You'll have to come with us," I said to Fang.

"Where are we going?" He had no clue… _**excellent**_…

I grinned at my suave use of the underline, bold and italicize key. "Mime camp."

**Page 29 reference… What weighs more: a ton of bricks or a ton of freaking bricks?**


	6. It's Mimie Time

**Wow, is it chapter six already? We're spouting off ideas like a broken hose spouts water. Hope you're enjoying… though I'm not sure enjoying is the right word in this case… ****(I spelled it 'Mimie' on purpose…… anyone get the reference?)**

The words 'Mime' and 'Camp' put together sent a shiver down everyone's spine and what we had allowed Iggy to keep of his spine. They'd painted Iggy's face white; the paint didn't wash off and now he was forever half-mime, forty eight percent boy and two percent bird. That was the reason we had told him we'd taken his eyes: "Now you won't have to look at yourself in the mirror." That, and a flying half-mime was much more scary that a flying half-mime who couldn't see.

"Maybe after four years they'll have forgotten about us," said Nudge, stroking Blood Bucket and mumbling, "My preciousssss…"

"They'll never forget about us. Jeb wasn't supposed to take us out of there," I reminded Nudge.

"Jeb wasn't supposed to talk either," Iggy said, sort of to himself.

"That's the reason he got kicked out!" we shouted. Let me tell you: a guy who hasn't talked his entire life and suddenly starts talking has _way_ too much to say. Hence the reason we all wanted to kill him. We almost would have rather stayed at the Camp. Almost.

"Then we'll go on TV and say that we're bird people and that they have to help us and that Mimes are capable of way more than you think they are-" Gazzy started.

"That'd fix the Mimes, but we'd end up in a zoo," Iggy noted.

We all started calculating if we'd get more food in a zoo than we got here.

"Darn," I said, tossing a calculator aside. "That erases the zoo idea."

"You just can't do math can you-?"

"Shut up!" We all took turns whacking Iggy on the head, even though it was Gazzy who had said it. Gazzy seemed to like this very much.

Suddenly, we all noticed Fang was gone; we ran around looking for him, holding our WOP's, thinking he had hidden, when he came back, passing some papers to me with tongs.

"Jeb put these in the back of the closet. I thought they might be useful," Fang explained, still eyeing the hunting rifle I had under my arm. I snatched the papers and looked at them.

"What the heck? I can't read these, they're written in Mimish," I growled.

"Here, let me." Iggy took the papers and read aloud to us what they said. It brought back the horrible lessons we learned at Mime Camp – how to make an invisible box, how to pull a none-existent rope… it was torture. "And this one… I can't tell what this one is."

"It's a map. But it's in English this time," I said. "Convenient."

I scratched Iggy's arm with the sharp end of a pen and used his blood as some ink to make a route on the map. He looked unhappy but said nothing; good old Iggy, he had so many uses.

"We should leave right now," I said, rolling up the red-stained map. "Let's go Nudge… _Fang_…"

"If you kill Fang, take pictures, okay?" Gazzy said, handing me our digital camera we had bought just for that moment.

We all looked at that spot over the fireplace hopefully, even Fang only he was confused as to why we were all doing that. Nudge conveniently slapped Iggy's head in that direction so we could pretend he was looking too. It would be mean to leave him out.

So we set off on our journey… We would get back Angel and Fang would be stuck forever in the torture that was Mime Camp. It was a win-win situation. What could possibly go wrong?

**You know, you do know that when someone says 'What could possibly go wrong?', it means something will go wrong? You did? Okay, good. Just making sure.**


	7. Fangkenstein

**If you're following along with your books, we're on page 39.**

"Max, I'm hungryyyy," Nudge whined.

"Fine. We've got chicken wings, ribs and fingers right here," I said pointing at Fang.

Fang raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a chicken, in the literal or not literal sense." Still, he flew a distance away, his AK-47 close at hand.

If, at this point, you're wondering why we're so murderous (you really ought to be, at least), blame the Mimes. As Jeb put it, they drove us to the Peak of Insanity and we refused to come down. Only Fang had survived without any signs of mental scarring. The only reason he wielded his gun was for his own protection. And he'd need it… he'd need it… but would it do him any good…?

"We clear on Plan S?" I asked. Plan's A-R were destroyed or didn't exist. I wondered how valid this map was exactly.

"Yeah, we meet up at The Sparkly Burger if we get lost," said Nudge, twirling her hair and only half paying attention.

I had been keeping my eye on Fang, hoping he wouldn't purposefully lose us. But he wasn't saying anything, just clutching his AK-47; wasn't he ever the annoying and stupid type.

"We'll have his head for sure!" I shouted.

Fang stared at me, his face a mixture of total confusion and weirded outness.

"…Was that outloud?" I asked Nudge.

"Probably," she said.

I blinked. "Where'd you get that cotton candy?"

Her eyes shifted conspicuously. "I didn't dive-bomb a carnival… just now."

I punched Nudge in the head, not for doing that but for not bringing back any for me. I loved Nudge; she was sensibly maniacal killer, but her selfishness was part of the reason we all became axe murders. She was third to die, right after Iggy.

I looked at the map; Mime Camp was right beside Twinkle Lake in the Valley of Everlasting Jocosity. Could it not be located in a more sickeningly perfect place? I felt like I'd just entered Disneydom.

The wind was undoing my braid and chunks of long hair whipped across my face. Note to self: cut hair short and while you're holding the scissors, cut Fang in half.

I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to leave Gazzy and Iggy at home. No doubt Iggy would be dead; still, there was a chance Gazzy would let him live if he made him his pan-fried lemon ricotta gnocchi with parmesan and potatoes. Thinking about food made me hungrier.

I glanced over at Fang; he looked serene almost. Well, not exactly happy; Fang's never happy with us around. But like he dropped his guard, just a little... I edged closer to him. Sadly, Fang ducked after I swung my duel swords at his neck.

Nudge flew up to help, her beloved katana stabbing at his heart.

"Ch… Chicken…" she muttered deliriously.

"What is _wrong_ with you two?!" Fang shouted, blocking her blow with his plexi-glass shield. Darn, I thought he'd left it at home.

"We need to eat something," I explained to Nudge, then whispered, "We're too tired right now… let us get our sustenance and than we may try again…"

Nudge nodded solemnly, keeping her eyes on the prize.

Fang pointed to a restaurant below, trying to show us our other options, called Tower of Turkey – All You Can Eat, From the Beak to the Feet. I was open for new options (maybe we could slip some bug repellent onto his food) and flew down. _Somehow_, we weren't seen by anybody and we _somehow_ folded up our humongous wings and _somehow_ hid them underneath our wind breakers. _Somehow_.

"Max?" Nudge's big eyes, the same tawny russet as her wings, looked over at me. "I was thinking-"

"No thinking for you!" I slapped her upside the head with a Japanese fan.

"… I _was_ and am no longer thinking, apparently," she began, rubbing her scalp, "you know how we Jeb knew our names? Like, mine was Flinpopiscle and Fang's was Denzenzamour and Angel's was L? Remember?"

"What about that?" I asked, after I finished pointing and laughing at 'Denzenzamour', who was staring at me with a single eyebrow rose. I was glad they couldn't say my name; only Iggy knew how to pronounce it, since his and mine were both in Mimish.

"Well, I was wondering if we could maybe see my parents, because it said they lived in Nabisco or something like that-"

"No. Go make a potato canon like a normal kid." Or as close as we could get to normal, since we were all mutants. Did I mention we were all mutants?

"You meant a flamingo canon, right?" Okay, so maybe we don't know what normal kids do.

"I brought back some turkey from that restaurant," said Fang, holding a plate out to Nudge and I, piled high with various poultry parts, on two long sticks. We accepted, sniffing it to make sure it wasn't poison. I guess eating this also makes us two percent cannibal.

"Valley of Jocosity, here we come," said Nudge in between bites.

"Fang… Denzenzamour… Your final days are coming to an end…" I cackled to myself in my deranged way.

"Why? Why don't I just go to a zoo? I could eat hay and chase my jingle ball and make faces at all the people who come to see me… I think I'll go right now…" Fang said to himself.

But he didn't leave. I guess he has more common sense than we give him credit for. That or he too had some sort of plan to get rid of us all.

"He's on to us, Nudge…" I whispered.

"As I have been for the past two years," he reminded me.

We glared at him together until he looked away, but not so much that he couldn't escape if we went up against him. So close and yet so far…

**Sorry about not updating in so long everyone. Homework sucks, but don't we all know it.**


	8. This is Maxisparta!

**So why did we abbreviate Weapon Of Choice as WOP?**

**Yes. Yes we did.**

**Page 49, everyone.**

"Let's throw all their stuff into the canyon," Iggy said angrily, punching a door frame or what was left of one. So they did.

Having to listen to the rest of the flock leaving while _he_ had to sit around being half-mime was more than he could stand. "I think we could get their beds would out the hall window." Or what was left of it. So they did.

"Well, I can't believe I have to stay home while they go off and kill Fang," Gazzy muttered angrily. He kicked Iggy into the kitchen island and beat him repeatedly with bacon tongs before sitting on the bloodied ground huffily. The house seemed empty and too quiet. He found himself listening for Fang's screams, waiting to hear a tortured cry or the sound of Blood Bucket fulfilling its duty.

"This _sucks_!" the Gasman shouted.

"No, I'm fine, thanks for asking," Iggy said through several broken teeth.

"Shut _up_," said Gazzy, who wasn't necessarily paying attention to what Iggy said, merely the fact that he was speaking. "I have to stay here because of you! Way to go for existing!"

Iggy's face stiffened. It helped the pain in his jaws if he didn't move it.

"The Eraser-Mimes know that we live around here," Gazzy thought allowed. "They might come looking for us. Which in that case we'd need a plan of some sort."

Gazzy started pacing as Iggy applied dental ointment to his destroyed gums. "We can make plans. We're not useless, like Max thinks."

"Right." Iggy put on a mouth guard before coming to sit next to Gazzy, tripping over several scattered porcupine pelts on the way there.

"I mean we're smart! We're tough as nails!" Gazzy proved this by shoving a porcupine quill up Iggy's nose.

"So what do we do?" Iggy was crying in pain he could no longer feel. Maybe his nose had finally fallen off.

"Traps! Sabotage! _Bombs_… Oh, think of the bombs, Iggy!" Gazzy was practically dancing with happiness.

"I don't much like to think about bombs after yesterday," Iggy muttered, knowing no one was really listening to him.

"Right, so you agree?" said Gazzy. It was phrased as a question, but he didn't really mean it as such. Gazzy went into the messy closest and used Iggy as a literal vacuum until he found the notebook he was looking for.

"You know I don't like eating staples," Iggy said, spitting out bits of metal.

"Ink," Gazzy demanded. Iggy sighed and plopped his head on the table. At least he was useful for something…

"Now. We need a great plan. Do you know how to make a bomb that peels off your fingernails one by one before exploding or like blows up your brain or something?" Gazzy asked no one in particular.

Iggy groaned. "Oh no – years of Max influence are taking their toll. You're, like, a Maximurderer. A Maximinion. This is… Maximum Homicide!"

Gazzy tossed Iggy into the canyon when he was done using his blood, where he narrowly avoided falling on Max's nice soft bed and instead harpooned his scalp into a pointed stalactite.

Gazzy went over his list, anticipating the jolly good time that was to come. "Step one: make firebombs. Step two: blow up demonic Eraser-Mimes." Gazzy smiled to himself; the wave of blood was almost palpable. "Now we're getting somewhere. _This is for you, Self! I mean, Angel!"_

**Frootios: the child of Cheerios and Froot Loops. Mmm… I'll have a floorful.**


	9. They Might Be Ritos

**Wow, it's been a while since an update.**

**But we're back!**

**For now…?**

**Ahem. Page 43.**

Her mouth was so dry. Her head ached - everything ached. Angel blinked several times, trying to wake up. Above her was… nothing. Anticlimactic, but she could tell that the Mimes had trapped her in an invisible box. Fuzzy thoughts pushed at her brain as she struggled to a sitting position, thoughts about kittens, rabbits and puppies. She wondered why she was thinking that. But all those images were pushed aside when she smelled the smelly smell that smelled smelly.

A chemical smell. She was back at the School.

Angel turned her head as some lowercase, grammatically incorrect words popped into her head. In the invisible box next to her were some fish-human hybrid boys that seemed to be unable to communicate.

"'Sup?" asked Angel.

The Zora children obviously didn't speak the language of awesome as they turned away and some more incoherent thoughts lacking in the punctuation department formed in Angel's brain.

Angel decided to ignore them and began wondering if Max and her less important bird friends were trapped somewhere. She also wondered where her WOP was. It was an AK-47. With Barbie stickers coating it thoroughly. It was the best weapon for the little girl considering it was completely unexpected. With the element of surprise and scratch-and-sniff stickers on her side, how could she possibly have gone wrong?

Then a door opened and footsteps didn't sound on the linoleum floor because Mimes don't make any noise. The two fish boys pointed at Angel and begged for her to be taken in their place with lots of gestures. The Mimes seemed to ignore them and stopped in front of Angel's invisible cage.

One of the Mimes began to bounce up and down whilst he clapped his hands silently. A female Mime stood next to him, looking slightly skeptical and formed eleven with her fingers. Angel somehow managed to comprehend that she was Subject Eleven and that they had been wanting her for a while. And they wanted to section her brain. Like a pie.

"Foolish Mimes," Angel hissed, "my mind is _way_ more complex than a pie."

But instead of listening to the girl, the Mimes tied her up with an invisible rope and carried her away. If Max were here, she would definitely blast them to smithereens. Then she'd attempt to blast Angel to smithereens. But Angel with rather be back with her murderous friends than with the creepy Mimes.

**new new chapter 'n' new another one soon new hopefully new zoras new lack grammar 'n' new**


	10. New chapter, new chapter, new chapter!

**Page 55. Yes, we're skipping the other Angel chapter. It consists of a child running on a Tredmill. It's also very depressing. But yeah, sorry we're depriving you of such an important piece of the plot.**

"Unhhh…"

I made an onomatopoeia unrecognized by Spell Check as I woke up. This bed was horrible! What was wrong with it?

Irritated, I punched my pillow into a better shape. I continued punching it because punching things is fun. But it was too legal to be that enjoyable, so I punched into the shape of Fang's face and kissed it passionately. There, now that I've contributed to the Fax universe, you can dance in a circle and scream. I'm not going to do it to the real Fang. That'd be as romantic as making out with the bottom of my shoe. That doesn't contain a bird foot. All you people are so cruel to mutants! Did I mention that we're mutants?

Then I fell to the floor because the passionate kissing made me incredibly dizzy. It was oh-dark-thirty, which is the cool way to say its not dawn yet. I guarantee you will achieve popularity if you continue reading this, BTDubs.

As another BTDubs, we're in an abandoned cabin, stealing food from people and taking comfort in their beds. Fang is sleeping on the couch. That may seem awfully vulnerable, but he has his WOP at his side, plus he's trained himself to wake up at the slightest sign that he is under surveillance. It's a talented trait but we're all against him, so it sucks.

"Wake up, guys!" I shouted. "We're all running late! So let's go, go, go!"

"Gggh…" Fang mumbled, incomprehensibly as well.

"Good morning to you too, Little Mary Sunshine," I cooed sarcastically. "Pack this ancient, stained backpack here with Chef Boyardi and stuff. Do it!"

Fang was already moving toward the kitchen cupboards. He methodically began filling it with tuna, sealed bags of crackers, zip-locked bags of trail mix. You know, only the most exciting travel foods.

"Wha's happ'nin'?" Nudge asked, blinking groggily.

"Fang forgot to wake us up!" I shouted.

"What an idiot!" Nudge tsked.

"I never said I'd do that," Fang snarled.

"Pack! Do it!" I snapped. Fang obeyed. Good Fang. I'll give him a biscuit later. Not.

Fang's backpack was rather full. Yay, he was carrying a lot of cans. Surely that would weigh him down. While he got ready, I was stapling Nudge's shoes onto her feet, slapping her back, trying to wake her up. Nudge was always a really slow waker. But now we needed to move, move, move!

I literally threw Nudge out the window, climbed out after and ripped the screen because it made a horrible grating noise that made Fang angry.

"Don't do that," he grimaced.

"Oh shut up and fly," I said back.

Then we flew into the sky.

_Not sorry, Fang. Not sorry, not sorry, not sorry, Fang. Boy, I like saying things three times in a row today._

**Fax romance is rather like a game of tag in the books. Fang says he loves Max, Max gets hysterical, Max flies away, something horrible happens to the gang that forces Fang and Max to get along, Fax is forgotten for the time being. They have a very underdeveloped love. I'm not sure why you poor shippers hurt yourselves with this knowledge, but at least you can read the fanfics and imagine them kissing and whatnot.**


	11. Speaking Mutant for Dummies

**Happy birthday, FlamingFlie! How fortuitous that I posted on your b-day. Well, as our first reviewer, I hope you had a good one.**

**Yes, so if you read along with your book (please tell us if you do, we'd like to know), turn to page 58.**

What kind of loser was Fang, to let us sleep in during a rescue mission! Well, not a technical rescue… More of a trade…

"We had to rest," Fang said monotonously. "It's not my fault-"

"Don't make me rip out your esophagus and shove it down your throat," I replied. Actually, I wanted him to make me hurt him. But Fang flew a distance away, slightly repulsed. Darn. There's nothing more annoying than having your target move when the tip of your arrow is focused on his heart. I would have tried again but Fang put up his Plexiglas shield.

"Oh, fiddle-faddle," Nudge responded to my rotten luck.

"That wasn't cool at all!" I scolded the little girl by shoving pipe cleaners up her nose. Never say 'fiddle-faddle' unless you want to get beat up. Preferably by me.

"… So are we going to storm the place or what?" asked Fang a while later.

Nudge and I displayed equally evil grins.

"Storm the place. Sure," I muttered.

"You two are weird," he responded, putting on a motorcycle helmet nervously.

But our crazy thought had cheered us up. Fang would never suspect us. Not even if we flew to the moon (wait, what?). If our plan worked, everyone would escape and get free. Except Fang. But that was okay.

**Sorry it's not really your birthday anymore, FlamingFlie.**

_**But as long as you had cake, you should be fine.**_


	12. To a Brillion and Beyond!

**I had an evil history assignment!Evil I tell you!As evil as this story!And we didn't forget about you!**

_**monkeybait's sister is back word to your home skillet.**_

**monkeybait is hiding in a corner at how lame her sis-izzle sounds.**

**Page 60, plz.**

Despite how glorious it was down below (for now), up here the tension grew as thick as bamboo. Which you can turn into swords. But I digress.

Not many birds flew up this high - some falcons, hawks, other raptors. Every once in a while some of them would come stare at us, probably thinking, _Caw! Ca-caw! Caw! _And we could tell because they were saying it too. But they never stayed for long, as Nudge swung her precious Blood Bucket at them and grunted, "Birds _suck_" which is rather hypocritical of her. Still, it gave me a chance to swing my own duel swords at her.

This high up, the land below took on a checkerboard effect of greens and browns. (Just think… adding Fang's blood would make it just like Christmas!) Every once in a while I picked a stone out of my pocket and threw it beneath me. It was cool how some little tiny thing, like a car, per se, would suddenly explode in a brilliant scarlet mushroom cloud and voices would scream in terror. When I did this, I didn't at all think of Iggy and his lack of arms and eyesight and the fact that he was, at this moment, probably writhing in a puddle of his own gore, lost and confused in the porcupine room.

"Gosh, I wonder what Iggy and the Gasman are doing now?" Nudge babbled, smiling as if the very same image had entered her mind. Nothing else needed to be said.

_Oh, darn it. I bet they've eaten the last of the double chocolate Milano's.__But hopefully, in their useless state, they're figuring out new ways to kill Fang. Second best, they'll accidentally kill themselves in the process._ And yes, those thoughts did need to be italicized, because you're definitely not reading my mind for the entirety of the book. Absently, I chose a flickering shape and focused on it, watching it become people, terrified people who didn't seem to enjoy watching mushroom clouds pop over the roofs of buildings as they walked to work. A group of kids, maybe my age, maybe older stood near the area. Who couldn't be more unlike me. Did I mention I'm a mutant?

Well, so _what_? I thought (I needed to clarify I was thinking this, too). They were just boring kids, stuck on the boring ground, doing boring homework, with boring bedtimes and a brillion grown-ups telling them how to do everything more boring all the boring time. They weren't even allowed to _kill_ anybody. Those poor saps. While we were soaring through the air like rockets. Being cradled by the breezes, some of us only protected by a single Plexiglas shield. Killing whomever we wanted, whenever we wanted. We were free, free, free. Yes, saying things three times in a row is definitely a blast. Blast, blast, blast. That was fun.

Wait a minute… It appeared not all normal, non-mutated children followed their parents rules about sparing the lives of others. By the looks of it, a large group of boys was surrounding a girl with the intent to harm her! Alright! I so wanted to join them!

But… this was a predicament. While I love to see death, girls are a brillion times better than boys. _Everyone_ knows that.

I made one of my famous snap decisions, which are more commonly known my 'snap, crackle, pop' decisions, the kind that everyone remembers later for being either the stupidest dumb-butt thing they ever saw or something incredibly illegal involving large quantities of farm fresh milk.

I turned to Fang and barely opened my mouth.

"Go get 'em, tiger!" he cheered, wanting me to leave.

"Nudge, keep an eye on him. But you don't you dare kill him without me," I ordered the eleven-year-old idiot.

"What? What are you talking about?" she asked, too busy stroking Blood Bucket's blade to pay attention. "Are we stopping? I'm uber hungry."

"Max made another cereal decision again," Fang said, hardly able to contain his sheer exuberance.

"Do you mean the ones that are the stupidest dumb-butt things we've ever seen or the ones involving milk, because if we have some, I definitely want to drink it," Nudge begged. "Oh, oh, oh! Max, remember when you got that little rabbit away the fox, and we kept it in a carton in the kitchen, and when it got fat we skewered it on a metal pipe Gazzy wrenched out of the plumbing and then we ate it? That was cool."

I grinned. Yes, I did remember that.

"You didn't find it in the wild, that was my rabbit!" Fang yelled, but as usual, we ignored him.

Instead I told him, "Don't even try to run" and glared for emphasis.

Fang abandoned the rabbit memory and I knew he saw the girl in trouble when he said, "You know, Max, you do a lot of things that I don't like. But saving that person down there… That's something really noble. I'm surprised but happy about this."

"Oh shut up Fang," I snapped and dive-bombed the ground, pelting the town underneath me with the remaining pebbles and yelling over my shoulder, "Keep him alive but just barely!"

As I plummeted, I saw Nudge give me a thumbs-up and Fang look about in slight disgust. I couldn't be more pleased. What could possibly go wrong?

**A brillion: some number between infinity and forever. Don't even get me started on a vrillion.**


	13. It May not Look Like Much, my Chapter 13

**Watching Link roll his eyes to the Final Fantasy song One-Winged Angel makes writing the unlucky 13****th**** chapter even more amusing.**

'_**Oha lucky!'**_

**Ya, so ennnyway, enjoy chapter.**

The thing about Iggy was, well, sometimes he could figure out stuff like a real scientist. He was that supersmart, scary smart, but no so smart that he could escape from the porcupine room whilst he half-drowned in a puddle of his own gore.

"Do we have any chlorine?" the Gasman asked Iggy flopped around like a water-deprived fish, only noisier. Gazzy was preparing two bombs and another for Iggy, whose screams of pain were becoming quite tedious.

"I'm sure there's plenty in the freezer," Iggy gasped after coughing up a glob of blood. "What color is that wire? If it's yellow, make sure to keep track of it. Do not confuse it with the red one."

Gazzy, being a curious young lad, decided to see what would happen if he confused it with red one.

Nothing happened.

"Ha! I knew you were going to mix them up so I told you the wrong one!" Iggy shouted, being supersmart, but in his blindness mixed up the two of them and reconnected the wrong one anyway.

Half of their house suddenly disappeared in a smoky black cloud of infinite destruction.

It was quiet for a minute.

"Did I blow up the side of the house with the porcupine room?" Iggy questioned.

Gazzy looked at it from the pile of rubbish and snow they were now sitting in. "Um… no. You blew up your room though."

"Cruddybuns. Well, I'm sure no one noticed."

The two scientists to-be kept working on the remaining bomb.

"Oh, yeah: Gazzy, if Max's room is still unscathed, go get me the alarm clock from her room. The Battle Royale one."

'_**Bye-bee!'**_

**Anyone ever played lentils on Wikipedia? If you do, you have an idea of just how much of a life I have outside of school. If you want a challenge and know how to play, try to get from can opener to Legend of Zelda.**


	14. It's Chapter 14! Believe it!

**Hello! I hope everyone's been enjoying the updates. (There's no reviews yet so it's hard to say.) We should have a few more tonight, but right now I have a little side thing that I hope you enjoy.**

**So have some of you heard of the Maximum Ride manga that's come out recently? If you have, you've probably seen the interesting choice of design for the characters. I seriously think that Iggy looks like a younger version of Light Yagami, if anyone is a Death Note fan who reads this. And Fang's never-ending ponytail? He looks like Yu Kanda, if, once again, anyone is a -Man reader.**

**  
But aside from that, in advisory this morning at school, I'd brought the first book of Maximum Ride with me to maybe get some ideas for Max Hom. (And I did, BTDubs.) Suddenly, the idea hit me: how **_**lame-tastic**_** would it be if Maximum Ride (Ride, not Hom) became an anime? Or at least a TV show? I'm sure the cool factor would be somewhere between that of Ginga Densetsu Weed and Captain Planet. Anyway, I've written an opening theme for it, with extra cheese, to satisfy what may be anyone's cravings for such. I got the ideas from other anime openings I've listened to. I hope you enjoy it. It's pretty Fax-filled. I hate that kind of stuff but maybe some of you will like it. Hopefully not too much since it's pretty stupid. Okay, I'll shut up now.**

CHORUS

Come on! let's go! Come on! let's fight!

Spread your wings and we'll take flight!

We'll travel into the darkest night

Stopping the Erasers and makin' thing right!

* * *

Your eyes glisten like the forest fires

We need to put out

Global Warming is always warring

Come on! let's extinguish doubt!

(CHORUS)

* * *

I found a ransom note in your bed

And worried that you might be dead

I know I told you I'm tough for a girl

But without you, I'll never save the world!

(CHORUS)

* * *

I didn't know what to do, I was feeling stuck

There was nothing to hold on to but a thin strand of luck

And suddenly, there was your hand to pull me out of my rut

So let's go! and kick some whitecoat butt!

(FINAL CHORUS)

* * *

FINAL CHORUS

Come on! let's go! Come on! let's fly!  
We'll save the world together, you and I!

I know we can do it, yes we can!

So come on! just grasp my hand~!

* * *

**I don't know about you, but I think a part of me just died.**


	15. lulz wared u park my roflcopter plz?

_**Hope everyone's enjoying the steady flow of updates. Junior year really allows for some anger to brew, as many of you know or will soon found out. Reading Kamichama Karin Chu helps, too.**_

_**Page 66 for anyone who's keeping track.**_

**Also, italicized means my sister's talking if you haven't picked up on that yet.**

I landed a bit hard on top of the car I blew up. In front of several people who were too busy looking at the smoking metal to pay attention to the bird girl who just fell down from the sky. Because smoking metal is way more entertaining than me. Even I had to look at first a second.

I checked my surroundings. Hmm… desert, scrubby plants… I think I was either in Moscow or Northern Canada. Moscow is an American state isn't it? I've always been bad with locations.

While everyone continued to flip out about the destruction, I folded my wings in and tied my windbreaker around my neck whilst I stumbled out of the rubble. There. Totally normal. Or as normal as you can get when you're a genetic mutant murderer that can never be accepted into society.

I rounded the corner of the warehouse I'd seen the guys and girl behind. I noticed one of the three dudes was passed out on the ground, his buddies shouting, "Where'd the rock come from?!" The girl, however, was staring up at the sky and saying, "Thank you, fate!" almost piously. Hmm. It seemed I'd already accidentally intervened.

"… Anyway, then," the taller dude said, turning back to the grateful girl who now had an unreadable on her face. "I told you not to tell anybody my little… occasion… with Ortiz-"

"You mean the tea party?" the girl blinked.

The guy grit his teeth. "Don't say that out loud!"

I somehow managed resist laughing. Ortiz? Like the gum? Ha, ha! A name as stupid as he is. Geez, what goodie-two-shoes. _Armed_ goodie-two-shoes. (Even this didn't remind me of how armless ol' what's-his-blind-face was.) One of them was holding a NERF gun in the crook of his arm. How old were these yahoos, Googles, MSN's, Comcastics, whatever Internet database floats your boat? Something told me they had stolen said NERF gun from their younger, probably-embarrassed-to-be-seen-with-them, brothers.

It gets so tiring, this weak-picking-on-the-strong thing. I wish the strong would just finish off the weak, you know? Then I wouldn't have to depress myself with things like watching this girl, who was probably even more embarrassed to be picked on by these princesses than the little brothers.

Okay, I'd seen enough of this pathetictosity. I stepped out from behind the building. The girl saw me and rolled her eyes, like, 'Oh please, I don't need help with these AOLs.' The guys wheeled to look at me.

"omg bos gy its anuther prson like thats wutz she sed," the first guy laughed. Oh. Oh God. A chat speaker. Kill me now.

"Just forget about her, man, I mean, we're armed, ya know?" The leader shouldered his NERF gun. It only got ten shots anyway. They were so weak, I chopped their lame WOP in half with my eyes, and they both shrieked like boy scouts faced with a bear. Or an old lady who refused to cross the street. Same difference.

"How do you like them apples?" I shouted at them.

"S-Shut up, chick!" the leader cringed. "Or should I say chicken, since you have those massive wings-"

"They're under my wind breaker, you can't see them! And at least call them duck wings since ducks are infinitely better than chickens!"

"Fair enough," boss dude replied.

I walked up to the girl.

"Who are you?" I asked dully.

"Oh, well I'm-"

"I'll just call you Clarence," I decided, because her introduction was taking way too long. "Mind if I mess with these guys a bit?" Once again, I didn't wait for her answer and I glared at the boys who squealed fearfully again. They were probably worried I could cut them in half with my eyesight too; unfortunately, I couldn't actually do that, but hey, it was cool with me if they thought I could.

I walked forward. Like the rest of the flock, I'm much stronger than even a full-grown axe murder - this didn't come from being a mutant, it came from all that practice on Fang and Jeb. But mostly what's-his-armless-face. Who _is_ he? I can't remember his name for the death of him. Either way, I had mad skizzilz.

"ima slize u in haf gf," Chat Speak sneered, whipping out a Zabuza sword from behind his back, the place where all the greatest weapons come from.

"Oh, please. That thing can't even cut through rice paper," I snarled. Fighting them was almost like… pointless. Part of me felt incomplete.

But picking on people is more fun, so needless to say it only took a few knocks over the head with the NERF gun to conk them out.

The girl approached me nervously. "Thanks for getting rid-"

"Whatever, Clarence," I snapped, spinning the gun in my fingertips heroically.

"My name's not Clarence," the girl huffed. "It's-"

"Listen, I'm really hungry. You got a house?" I asked, leaning on the butt of the gun. Ha! I said butt. Well, I thought butt.

"Yeah, I have a house, but listen, I'm Ella, okay?" Clarence-Ella responded, leading me away. "And I live with my mom and my dog Magnolia and-"

"Dog sounds good. You have barbecue sauce right?" I said.

Clarence-Ella looked scarred.

"You have to help me, by the way," I added, "because as the weak person I protected, any Superhero comic book or children's TV show will tell you that you're completely indebted to me until I'm done with you. So yeah… Dog and oyster crackers, I'm game."

"I wasn't actually in trouble! But fine." Clarence was clever, able to pick up that she wouldn't be able to shake me off. I guess that's why they invented weak people. They're so easy to manipulate.

**Thanks to Naruto Abridged for the Zabuza sword joke. It was just too good to pass by.**


End file.
